The Knight's Prisoner (Medieval Discipline 1) - Page 35

“Take off your dress, little flower,” Ferrum commanded softly, extinguishing the candle so their forms wouldn't be seen as shadows through the tent walls. Still, their sounds would be heard—not that it would be the first time the camp had heard her punishment or their sex.

He was sitting on his bedroll, his eyes heavy-lidded, filled with a dark desire. She met his eye as she slowly peeled off her clothing and let it fall to the ground in a heap. She stepped out of the skirts and bent to pick them up and fold them neatly, but Ferrum growled, “Leave 'em. Come to me.”

She went and knelt before him, waiting for instruction. He took hold of one of her nipples and pinched, slowly increasing the pressure until she gasped and involuntarily tried to move away, which—of course—only made it worse.

“Mine,” Ferrum growled.

“Yes,” she agreed, panting. He released her nipple. “I want your bottom right here,” he said patting his lap. She laid across his lap. “No, like this,” he said, picking up one of her legs and swinging it over his head so she straddled him, facing away, her bottom presented to him with her legs spread wide. She was lying over his outstretched legs, and he tossed a blanket down to her for cushioning. She had only just tucked it under her chest and head when the first slap fell. Ferrum continued swatting her in rapid succession, changing from side to side until her entire bottom started to sting. It felt good, even as the burn increased. She reveled in Ferrum's intense focus on her after the silent treatment he'd given her. She enjoyed the sting of his hand on her flesh, the way her sex was spread open for his view in this position.

The intensity of the sting began to grow, and she had to close her eyes and breathe, willing herself to relax and open to the sensation, rather than try to escape it. She heard herself whimper but felt no true distress.

He continued with no sign of stopping, and soon she started to grow agitated. She wrapped her lower legs behind his back to keep herself from kicking, fearing she might kick him in the face in the position she was in. Even as her agitation grew, the level of intensity with which he was striking her increased. Her whimpers grew louder, and her bottom started bobbing, trying in vain to dodge the blows. She felt the urge to beg and plead welling up in her. She pushed it firmly back down and let herself cry instead. She clutched at his lower legs with her fingers digging in and started to sob softly. Still, he didn't stop.

He began to slap just one side—the same place over and over again until her hips were writhing frantically under the cruel bite. He then moved his target and slapped up and down that thigh several times before moving to give the other side the same tortuous treatment. The anticipation of knowing what was to come made it worse, but because it was her left side he couldn't strike her quite as hard in the position she was in. Still, it smarted terribly.

The spanking suddenly stopped, and she felt his lips pressed to her hot cheek, the scratch of his stubble feeling rough against her chaffed skin. He rubbed her bottom for a few moments. Her pussy was dripping wet, so hungry for his touch. She feared he'd make her wait all night for her pleasure, but he was not so cruel. She felt a finger dip into her honeyed moisture, but then it withdrew too soon. The moistened finger pressed into her arsehole, and she moaned and pushed back to allow entry. It felt too large and too rough and she had to fight hard not to tighten against it.

“Ow… ah… Ferrum,” she gasped.

“Yes, my little flower,” he rumbled in a low voice, and she felt a second finger pressing into her sex. That gave her everything she needed, and she followed its movement. He was using a thumb in each hole, if she was feeling it right. The palm of his hand cupped her mound and gave her delicious feedback on her nub of pleasure. He worked the thumbs simultaneously together, stroking in and out, then alternating first one, then the other, which she preferred. Tension coiled up in her, wrapped tighter and tighter as she spread her legs wider, pushing back at him eagerly, rocking her hips to meet each thumb as it alternately pushed into her. She started making a soft, keening cry as the need became almost painful, and then she tumbled over the edge of the cliff, bucking against him, biting her lip to keep from howling as the pleasure rolled through her in delicious waves. Spent, she collapsed limply on his legs as he slid his thumbs slowly out of her.

Tags: Renee Rose Medieval Discipline Erotic
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